


untitled vampire/asexual incubus AU

by tigriswolf



Series: unfinisheds [36]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Succubi & Incubi, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Biological Consent Issues, Bloodplay, Death, Dubious Consent, Gen, M/M, Torture, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-21
Updated: 2017-02-21
Packaged: 2018-09-25 23:41:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9852209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tigriswolf/pseuds/tigriswolf
Summary: “You’re a vampire,” Harry says, wrapping his fingers around Louis’ wrist.“I am,” Louis admits.  “Still workin’ on what you are, love.”[will never be finished]





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is never gonna be finished. My notes/where this was going will be posted next.
> 
> Disclaimer: the real people belong to themselves; everyone else belongs to me  
> Warnings: violence/death, references to, torture, bloodplay, and non-con/dub-con; biological dub-con  
> Pairings: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, past OCs/Harry, Louis/Nick Grimshaw  
> Rating: PG13  
> Wordcount:  
> Point of view: third
> 
> Note: incorporates the following prompts, though was not originally inspired by any
> 
> RPF, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, Sweet Temptation
> 
> RPF, Louis Tomlinson/Harry Styles, Louis proposes while playing scrabble.
> 
> RPF, Louis Tomlinson/Harry Styles, Louis comes home after being away for a awhile to the smell of food baking.
> 
> any, any, you're the best thing that's ever been mine.
> 
> any, any, best kept secret
> 
> RPF, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, They like to people watch and make up fake names and back stories to the people they see.
> 
> RPF, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, Harry cuts his finger while fixing dinner.

To be perfectly honest, Louis hates hates HATES most of the fiction about vampires. Just ridiculous, honestly. Especially Twilight, but that was more the shitty dialogue than the actual mythos. He’s also reached the point of hating the fact that he’s mostly indestructible though he’d ceased attempting to off himself when Dorie had pulled him down beside her on the hospital bed and cussed him out the way Mum would’ve, ordering him to stop trying to die so damn hard when she was fighting so damn hard to live. It was a bit of an eye-opener, really. 

He buried her, the same as he’d buried all the rest of his sisters and Ernie and Mum and Dad and Dan, the way he’d bury their children. Not their grandchildren, though. He couldn’t bring himself to continue haunting the family that moved on without him. 

He stopped trying to die in his ninetieth year—or would’ve been, if he’d still been mortal. His sixty-eighth as a demonic figure of legend. He’d been turned the same year his youngest siblings were born, and if he’d known what he was getting into… and he can’t even blame Nick, not since he did tell Louis everything. Louis just hadn’t believed him. 

“You look bored, pet,” the woman perched attractively on the stool next to his attempts to purr. She’s clearly high on whatever the newest drug is; Louis hasn’t bothered keeping track since he nursed Lottie’s oldest through withdrawal. “Dance with me,” the woman says, nearly falling off the stool. 

“No, thank you,” he says. He doesn’t even know what he’s doing here. It’s Nick’s newest attempt at patching up their relationship, and he’s off dancing with some pretty thing. He promised sixty years ago that he’d learned from turning Louis, that he’d never turn someone on a first (and last) date again. And there he is, nibbling his way along some poor bastard’s neck. 

Louis began to hate his indestructibility decades ago. But it is _highly_ convenient when you want to expend rage on someone. 

He drains his whiskey down and stalks over to Nick, sliding his way between the mortal and his arsewipe of a sire, and he peers up at Nick through his eyelashes (which, for some reason, is still Nick’s weakness), murmuring, “I’m bored, babe.” 

Nick swallows heavily. “I suppose we can go, then,” he says, just a hint of nerves in his voice. Good. 

When they first met, Louis had been excited by how much bigger Nick was, how much stronger. Being turned evened that out. 

“I suppose,” Louis says sweetly. He glances over his shoulder at the mortal, the poor boy still caught up in Nick’s charm. “Run along, love,” Louis orders and the boy blinks, his body jolting a little as he comes back to himself. He turns and flees, and Louis looks back at Nick. “Stop eyeing my neck,” he hisses, spinning in place so that he can drag Nick toward the door. 

“How much trouble am I in, exactly?” Nick asks. Louis just smirks at him, with fang, and Nick sighs. 

.

Sometimes, when attempting to patch up their relationship (again) implodes quite spectacularly, Louis is sure that Nick regrets ever turning him. If he wanted to, of course, Nick could destroy him, but that’s quite a lot of work to go to, and for all that he sometimes wishes he didn’t exist anymore—Louis would not make it easy.

He steps out into the morning light, Nick bloody and limp in the hideous motel room, and knows it’ll be at least a decade before Nick tracks him down for another try. There’s supposed to be a bond between sire and child, and the early days are still a blur in Louis’ mind. He doesn’t know if it was ever there. 

Louis sighs and starts trudging away from the door. He could steal Nick’s car, or charm a human’s car from them, but he does enjoy the slight burn of the sun on his skin. It would take hours of constant contact to do him any harm at all, and constant contact is an impossibility now due to all the chemicals in the air. Which city is this, even? It’s somewhere in the States, near the Atlantic, he remembers that. Possibly in the south, as well. Why had Nick chosen it? 

“Hi,” he hears, and he’ll realize later that that should’ve been the first clue. Instead, caught up in his anger at Nick, he’s unfocused on what’s missing. 

He turns to see a fidgeting human in the car park, wearing dirty clothes that are ill-fitting and no shoes, messy curls pushed back behind his ears. There’s a pleasant chill in the air, not that it bothers Louis, but a human _should_ be shivering, and this boy isn’t. 

“Can you help me?” the boy continues. He’s young, it seems, maybe about the same age Louis was when he stopped aging. His heart beats very slowly and there’s something off about his scent—

“I was mugged, you see,” he says, smiling nervously and ducking his head. He’s got _dimples_ , and curls, and Louis has nothing better to do. He never does, anymore.

“What is it you think I can do?” Louis asks. “Surely the motel office has a phone you can use.” 

The human lowers his gaze, biting at his bottom lip. It is _stupidly_ endearing. 

It’s also a trap, that much is obvious, Louis realizes, all of the details that are slightly off, but he isn’t sure what the trap is meant for. A human? A vampire? Something else entirely? 

“But I need _your_ help,” the boy pouts, drifting forward. “Please?” His bottom lip juts out enticingly, begging for Louis to bite it. 

“And who are you, exactly?” Louis demands, keeping space between them by backing up. Very little can move faster than a vampire, but it’d be his luck for this kid to be one of them. However pretty he is. However much Louis can’t stop inhaling, just for more of whatever his scent is. 

“I’m Harry,” the kid says, smiling. He looks so _innocent_ , and young, with his curls and his dimples. Definitely a trap.

“And _what_ are you, Harry?” Louis asks sweetly. 

The kid pouts harder. “Just a tourist,” he answers. His body language, his scent—nothing indicates a lie but Louis knows it is.

“What else?” Louis says, backing up again as Harry moves closer.

The kid’s pout turns into a smirk. “You’re the first to ever notice,” he says, voice deepening slightly as he straightens up out of his slouch. “So who and what are _you_?” 

Louis is still full of Nick’s blood, not tired at all. He shifts his balance to better be able to fight or run, whichever he decides on. “I’m Louis,” he says. 

Harry runs his fingers through his hair, messing his fringe up. Louis wants to fix it. “Louis,” Harry repeats. “You smell old. Like blood.” 

“I’m not even a hundred,” Louis shoots back, slightly offended. He knows he’s pouting but Harry is smiling again. Why does that matter? It shouldn’t. “And how old are _you_?” 

“I’ll be forty this year.” Harry flicks his head but his fringe falls back into his eyes. “How humans count, anyway.”

Louis looks from Harry’s bright green eyes, scanning down his body and back to meet his gaze. “So, why do you need _my_ help?” he asks again. 

When Harry steps forward, Louis remains still. “I need a guide,” he says. “I’m new here.”

A heartbeat suddenly ceases, from the chorus he’s been listening to since last night. Keeping his eyes on Harry, Louis tilts his head slightly, focusing his hearing. Harry frowns but keeps silent. There has been a cacophony of noise, as there always is; Louis learned how to turn it down, tune it out decades ago. But he always hears heartbeats, unconsciously. And there is clearly now one less—the one that had been slowing down all morning. The one that began weakening last night, he realizes now, while he’d been concentrated on Nick. 

“So you eat humans?” Louis asks, raising an eyebrow. 

Harry’s eyes widen, his scent turning a bit nervous as he shifts his weight. 

“Well, let’s get out of here, Harold,” he says. “Come along.” 

It makes no sense, really, but he knows that whatever the boy is, he isn’t truly a threat to Louis. And he’s bored. He chuckles as Harry catches up. “We need to find you some better clothes,” he says. “But first, we need a ride.”

.

Harry explores the dashboard and glovebox, examines the radio with fascination. Louis follows all traffic laws, explaining why when Harry asks. 

“So you _are_ new,” he says as he parks a few blocks from the bus station. There’s a Wal-Mart, too. “C’mon, let’s get you some clothes before leavin’ town.” 

“Where are we going?” Harry asks, fiddling with the safety belt.

“Well, I left someone at that motel, too,” Louis says. “And it is unlikely he’ll want to get back at me but better safe than sorry.”

“Wait,” Harry says, pausing half out of the car. “What are _you_?”

Louis smirks at him, letting some fang show. “Bit late to worry now, innit, love?”

Harry blinks at him, looking so sweet, so _young_. Forty in human years—what does that equal in his kind’s age? Because wherever he’s from, it’s obviously a little different from Charlotte, North Carolina (according to the radio station) in 2015. 

Louis has watched the world change around him. He loves all the modern-day conveniences (like mobile phones, and the internet, and trustworthy air-conditioning), and wishes his siblings could’ve stayed young and enjoyed it all—but no, he won’t get bogged down in regrets today, not while he’s got this kid looking awe-struck and a little lost. 

“To Wal-Mart,” he announces. “We need to dress you like it’s 2015.”

.

Harry loves Wal-Mart. It’s just adorable. He wants to touch everything, to taste half of it, and when a few humans try fussing at him, Louis charms them into fucking off before Harry notices. As he watches Harry explore the store, he goes down the list of what Harry might be.

Obviously not a shifter of any kind; his smell is all wrong for that. Not a vampire, either, even more obviously. Not fae, and he acts all wrong to be a spirit possessing the body. That would account for the newness—except that the newness is reserved for the world, not for his body. The only thing Harry has no fascination for is his own body. So if he _is_ possessing the body, he has been for a very long time. 

Like, oh, forty years, perhaps?

“Louis, come look!” he calls. “What is this?” 

Louis sighs heavily because Harry has found the seasonal aisle. Wonderful. 

.

By the time Louis finally escapes the Wal-Mart with a newly-purchased suitcase with three changes of clothes for Harry, his energy is flagging slightly. “Time to catch a bus,” he orders Harry. While Harry gazes around the station, Louis charms tickets from a few humans and then chooses a destination. “You’re a tourist,” he muses as Harry returns to him, clutching his suitcase. “And you need a guide.” 

“Yes,” Harry chirps. So far, he’s been acting like a very excited adolescent, and that once, he acted like a predator that’d been found out—what other facets are there? Louis wants to peel his skin back and taste. 

“So how do you feel about LA?” Louis asks, slipping through the crowd. Harry follows, people pulling away from him without noticing. Another hint: human instincts are generally trustworthy when it comes to their safety. Louis is almost always the most dangerous thing around, save when older vampires are present. 

He wonders, as they settle into their seats, which of them could appear more harmless. Probably Harry, he acknowledges, watching Harry begin talking to their neighbors. Those curls and dimples are powerful weapons. Harry’s charm seems different from Louis’, more natural, as it were. Less of a vampire’s glamor and more of a magnetic personality. Louis can do it the human way, too, but it takes longer and he’s usually in a hurry. 

Why, though? While Harry chats with two old women going to visit their children, Louis asks himself why he’s always in a hurry. Since his family is all gone, what does he even have but time?

He no longer wants to die. Doesn’t want to get involved in the politics of leadership, like Nick’s trying to do. Nick has an entire family in his clan, his sire’s other children, cousins and adopted siblings, and Louis—well, Louis _had_ a family. He doesn’t want Nick’s. Which has long been a point of tension. 

Harry nudges him as one of the women digs into her bag for a tablet. “Y’alright?” he barely murmurs, so softly no human could hear it. 

Something about this boy—is it his charm? He is clearly a predator’s trap, but what is the prey?

Louis has the time to discover it. It’s the first time in a long time that he’s felt excitement. 

.

They spend the night in Atlanta, so that Harry can explore before catching their next bus. There’s no rush, after all, and Harry _is_ a tourist. And Louis is seeing it all anew—he spent so long being so tired but Harry is excited about everything. And as he delights in the world, he keeps glancing to Louis for—permission? Validation? His sisters once did something similar, so Louis makes sure to react with approval. 

They share a hotel room. For the first time since they met this morning, Harry begins to flag. Louis is still running off his feeding on Nick, but he needs to rest, too, to conserve it. 

“You more hungry or tired?” he asks Harry after closing their room’s door. 

“’m’fine,” Harry lies, collapsing face first onto the bed in his joggers and jumper. 

It would be exceptionally stupid to sleep in the presence of an unknown. Louis hasn’t truly slept near someone else in… decades.

Louis pokes at Harry’s shoulder. His curls are _begging_ for Louis’ fingers. “Do I need to catch a human for you?” he asks seriously. 

“No,” Harry says, rolling over and catching Louis’ hand. “I’m still fine from last night. Just… tired.” He’s staring at Louis’ hand, so Louis lets him keep hold of it. Harry spreads Louis’ fingers, caresses the knuckles, and then traces the faint scars that remain from Louis’ human life. 

“You’re a vampire,” Harry says, wrapping his fingers around Louis’ wrist. 

“I am,” Louis admits. “Still workin’ on what you are, love.” 

Harry dimples at him. Louis sinks down beside him and asks, “Did you have fun today?”

“I did,” Harry says. His fingers are warm against Louis’ skin, warmer than a human. So definitely not a possession, then. “Thank you, Louis.” He shuffles closer without loosening his grip, pressing his side into Louis; he’s clearly fading fast. Such a trusting little thing. Louis wants to keep him. And eat him. And break him. 

“Go to sleep,” he whispers. Harry pushes in even closer, like he’s trying to slip inside Louis’ skin, and then he turns, pressing his back to Louis’ chest, pulling Louis’ arm across himself. 

Harry is so _warm_ —Louis nuzzles the back of his neck, burying his face in the curls he’s been wanting all day. “What are you?” he asks quietly. Never in his 90 years has he reacted to someone like this: utter trust in under ten minutes. Being so gentle. 

His arm is being cuddled by an unknown being. If Nick saw this, he’d wonder whether Louis had been possessed. But Harry’s breathing evens out as he falls asleep with a vampire wrapped around him. 

Once, Louis had been a beloved son, a protective and loving brother. He had adored his mother, worshipped his sisters and brother. He had to watch them grow past him, had to bury them—because they saw how being turned had broken him and none of them wanted it. So he had Nick, Nick’s family and it— _ruined_ him. 

He no longer wants to die but he has not yet begun to live again. 

Louis had unconditional, un-ending love for his family. He’s never felt it for anyone else. 

Harry whimpers, grip tightening on Louis’ arm. 

“What _are_ you?” he repeats, focusing on Harry’s heartbeat and letting it lull him to sleep. 

.

Louis wakes up warmer than he’s been in nearly 70 years. Harry’s hands have slipped under his shirt, and those two points of contact feel like fire on his skin—but it doesn’t hurt. He does feel tired, though, which he shouldn’t since the window shows daylight. 

Harry’s heartbeat speeds up, and his body tenses, and he shouts, “Oh, fuck!” as he tears himself away from Louis to fall off the bed. 

“Are you shitting me”?” Louis demands, sitting up. “You’re a bloody incubus?” 

“I’m sorry!” Harry yelps. “I didn’t mean to feed!” He proceeds to apologize for the better part of five minutes before Louis finally says, “Oh, shut up, Harold.” He looks worried and smells sad. “I know it wasn’t intentional.”

“D’ya need to feed off me?” Harry asks, nearly rising before pulling back, looking nervous. 

“No, I’ll find a human, don’t worry about it.” Louis peers over the edge of the bed: Harry looks so _young_ , what sort of sex demon is he? He’s cowering on the floor, huddled in on himself, and there’s nothing sexy or attractive about it, not even for a bloodthirsty vampire who sometimes likes to play with people before eating them. 

Louis blinks down at him as he finally comes out of the lethargy Harry feeding off him produced. “We didn’t have sex,” he says. “How exactly did you feed?” 

Harry’s heartbeat is steadying. “I… don’t know?” he murmurs, visibly calming down. Louis assumes it’s because he hasn’t attacked the kid. 

“You _are_ an incubus, yes?” Louis asks. He settles more comfortably on the edge of the bed. Harry uncurls slightly, though he’s still delightfully flushed. “You don’t smell quite right, though.” Louis has met both an incubus and a succubus before; they’d teamed up to hunt, tried to seduce Louis. It went poorly for them, because Louis had still been in his madness after being turned, and he’d been expending his rage on everyone he came across. 

That he survived it still surprises him. Surely Nick’s family had wanted him dead for being a threat, or hunters should have found him. He hadn’t been hiding himself at all, really. Hadn’t thought about it, hadn’t cared. 

He grew out of it, of course. Returned to his human family. That hurt, too. 

“Louis?” Harry says tentatively, so Louis shakes his head, focusing back on the least-intimidating demon he’s ever met. 

“Sorry,” he says. “Sorry, love.” 

Harry rises to his knees and slowly, hesitantly, crawls back onto the bed. He can’t seem to keep his gaze on Louis, glancing from his clasped hands to Louis’ face and back. “I’ve never felt comfortable at home,” he confesses. “I’ve…” He’s flushing again, head ducked. “I don’t like what we do.”

“What do you mean?” Louis asks, reaching out to gently touch his knee. 

Harry smells ashamed. “I-I don’t like sex.” He doesn’t look up, wringing his hands. “I, we—my sister, she had a friend help me when I matured. But I…” His heartbeat speeds up again. “I hated it. And I didn’t try to hide that I hated it, and I kept asking why we _had_ to fuck, and I tried not to, but then I was _starving_ , so my family—” He cuts himself off. 

Louis’ fingers curl and his fangs try to slip out. “By human reckoning,” he asks softly, “how old are you?” It’s what he understands best, as he’s rejected every part of vampire culture he knows of. He himself is still frightfully young by his kind’s standards, though he mostly considers himself old. 

Harry shrugs. “I’ve been mature for a few years,” he says. “We age half, I think? Or twice? ‘m’not sure.” 

Louis had been full grown when Nick claimed him. He still thinks like a human, though he knows older vampires lost it at some point, when they’d lived long enough to forget what life had been like. And now, he looks at this trembling boy, and he is horrified. 

“You’re an incubus who doesn’t enjoy sex,” he says. “ _Shit_ , Harry.” 

Harry shrugs. “So I came here,” he says. “And I’ve been feeding, as much as I can stand.” 

“So why have you sought me out?” Louis asks. “It was a bit creepy, you just poppin’ up like that, if I’m truthful.” 

Harry brightens slightly. “My mum, her husband has a gift of prophecy.” 

Louis’ lips tighten. “He’s not an incubus, then?” 

Harry shakes his head. “Robin’s part human but mostly fae. I wasn’t doin’ so well at home, and Robin read the wind for me. He said if I popped over to the human world, I’d find somethin’ I need.” 

“And you think that’s me?” Louis chuckles. 

Harry’s smile is shy as he looks down at his hands. “I think maybe you are.” 

.

They spend the day in Atlanta, seeing the sights. Louis takes a quick bathroom break and feeds off a middle-aged man, just enough to stop the hunger pains. While Harry is examining a McDonald’s menu, Louis feeds again, because apparently being fed on by an incubus took out more of him than he’d thought. 

He doesn’t mention that to Harry. 

Once Harry starts flagging, they return to the room. Louis sends Harry into the shower first, and he texts Niall, a ‘shifter he met a long time ago, asking, _What do you know about incubus?_

_Sex demons,_ Niall replies while Harry is singing to himself in the shower. _Y?_

_No reason_ , Louis lies, because Niall is friends with one of Nick’s cousins, and that predates their meeting. Niall has friends across realms, and he’d be a good source of information, if Louis was sure he could trust him. He wants to trust him. 

But vampires are possessive, and everything else Louis could claim is dead or out of reach. He’ll bury his nieces and his nephews and the one who realized there is no gender that fits, and that is all he can do for them. But there’s a boy laughing beneath the water, and Louis wants to taste him, wants to hold him, wants to see what would make him scream and beg and writhe. 

Instead, he peels off his clothes, settles on the bed, and turns on the telly. 

When Harry steps out of the bathroom, a towel on his shoulders and wearing his newly-bought pants, steam billowing around him, he freezes. “What-what are you doin’, Louis?” he asks, and his contented scent is replaced by fear, which Louis hates. 

“You fed off me last night,” Louis says. “I know it wasn’t enough. And you did it without fucking me or bein’ fucked, and I think we should explore that.” 

The kid still smells like terror, but it’s shot through with curiosity now. He approaches the bed slowly and Louis remains completely still as Harry reaches out with his left hand. He claims he’s matured, but he still looks so achingly, breakingly young. The thought of anyone else ever touching him has Louis wanting to rip things apart. 

Harry’s hand barely brushes against his bicep before Harry pulls away again. Louis doesn’t move. The second time, Harry barely breathing, a good ten seconds pass. 

“Harry,” Louis says. “I promise, sweetheart, we won’t be havin’ any sort of sex tonight.” 

There’s no reply except Harry stepping closer to the bed, and his hand slowly settling on Louis’ side, his fingers spreading across Louis’ ribcage. 

Louis stares up at him, at Harry’s confused expression, at the dripping curls pressing into his skin. He doesn’t look finished, or anywhere near full grown. He’s focused on his hand, which feels so warm, like when Louis has filled up on blood, enough that he can almost pretend his heart is working again. Or that time when Nick had compelled him to drink sire’s blood so that he survived after getting thrashed by one of the elders—Nick had nearly died because Louis didn’t stop until he was full to the brim, and it was the most alive he’d felt since his last night as a human. 

“I don’t know how,” Harry whispers, shoulders slumping. Before his hand slips off, Louis brings his up to cover it. 

“Get into bed, love,” Louis orders. He slides across the sheet and rolls onto his side, watching as Harry slowly (and still smelling terrified, a scent that has never bothered Louis before tonight) lets himself rest on the bed. He’s tensed, ready to flee at any moment, fist clenched on the bed between them. 

“Harold,” Louis says. “How do you feed?” 

Harry bites down on his lip, fists clenching; his heartbeat races even faster. “People fuck me,” he says, voice shaking. “I… I pull energy from them. I don’t, I don’t control it. It just happens.”

“To be healthy,” Louis asks, “how often do you need to feed?” 

Harry shrugs. He drags his gaze from the ugly bedspread to somewhere around Louis’ mouth. “Every other night, to be safe,” Harry murmurs. “I’ve been waitin’ ‘til I can’t stand it and then I find someone to drain dry.” His eyes flick up to meet Louis’ before sinking back down to Louis’ chest. “I try to find bad people.” 

Louis squeezes his hand. “Well, you fed on me last night, love. And we didn’t have any kind of sex at all.” 

Harry’s back to nibbling on his lip. Louis wants to taste him. “Let’s go to sleep,” Louis suggests. He gently tugs at Harry’s hand, barely enough to feel. “Like we did last night.” 

“I should, should put on the shirt,” Harry whispers, and he smells more like excitement than fear now. 

“I think we should try skin-to-skin,” Louis says. 

Harry’s heartbeat surges again. Louis brings his free hand to Harry’s chin, tilting his head up so that Louis can look him in the eye to firmly say, “I’ll just hold you like last night. The only difference will be our clothing.” It’s completely mad but the truth as he adds, “You’ve trusted me this far.” 

Slowly, Harry crawls from the edge of the bed to settle carefully beside Louis. Louis squeezes his hand. “Good boy,” he murmurs and Harry flushes delightfully. 

Louis doesn’t request or order that Harry removes his pants because that might push him back into a panic. Instead, he allows Harry to get comfortable on his side, his back to Louis, and Louis presses in close, tucking his face into the back of Harry’s neck, right below those lovely curls. He wraps his arms around Harry, like they had been when he woke up this morning, and while Harry’s heart races for a little while, it finally slows. 

“If you don’t like sex,” Louis murmurs, eyes closed as he soaks in Harry’s scent, “what do you like?” 

Harry doesn’t answer. It takes Louis opening his eyes and leaning up slightly to look at Harry’s face, which is completely relaxed with his eyes closed, to realize that the steady lull in Harry’s heartbeat means he’s asleep. He laughs softly and settles back down, allowing himself to relax. 

.

Louis wakes up feeling warm and happy, and his skin is burning everywhere it touches Harry’s skin—and Harry’s heartbeat is racing, so either he’s dreaming or awake. “Harry?” Louis murmurs. 

Harry startles, lunging forward out of Louis’ loose grip. “Sorry!” he says but at least this time he doesn’t fall off the bed. 

Louis’ going to need to feed before getting on a bus full of food. He yawns and stretches, arching his back, and smirks when Harry quickly looks away, smelling confused and interested. “What time is it?” Louis asks.

“Just after 7,” Harry mumbles. “I’m, uh. I’ll get dressed.” 

“Wait,” Louis says, grabbing his hand. “Did you feed enough?” 

Harry nods. “Um. You should probably feed, too.” He glances up long enough to meet Louis’ gaze and quickly looks down. “It… it took less at a time than fucking does. I, I’m not sure how long I was feeding before I woke up. But I…” 

“You what?” Louis asks softly. It’s a tone he rarely uses on humans, even when charming them. It’s a tone that he used only for his family. 

“It felt nice,” Harry whispers. 

“I’m glad,” Louis says honestly. “Now, you get dressed while I go find my breakfast.” He darts in to press a kiss to Harry’s cheek and pulls on the closest clothes (which is Harry’s too-large shirt and his own jeans) before rushing out of the room before he does something even more embarrassing. 

.

Breakfast is one of the janitors and then a guest of the hotel; both will live and neither will remember. Harry’s waiting on the bed when he gets back, in one of his new outfits. He’s practically glowing, his curls rioting and his cheeks a lovely red. He looks _delectable_. Louis hasn’t lost control of his bloodlust in a long time and it’s a very good thing he’s full. 

“Well, c’mon then,” Louis says. “We’ve a bus to catch.” 

.

They buy muffins and tea before boarding; Louis checks his voicemail and texts while they wait, and Harry makes friends with the other passengers. Nick has apparently gone back to his loft in New York to finish recuperating and there are no hard feelings; there never are. Niall’s made friends with a fae visiting his pack and they’re about to go off on adventure through the continent. Louis snorts in bemusement and cautions, _be careful, little wolf, fae cant be trusted_. 

Harry laughs loudly and Louis looks up to watch. There are three elderly human women chatting with him, all completely captivated. 

His phone buzzes. _n vampires can?_ Niall asks. _also im older n you_. 

Which is only true if the years as a vampire count, but whatever. 

“Lou, come meet the girls!” Harry calls, so he locks and pockets his phone. 

.

Jackie, Heather, and Edna are a delightful group of little old ladies who remind Louis of his mum. They’re all sharp and funny and keep him on his toes all the way to Monroe in Louisiana. Jackie buried two husbands, Heather lost hers to her least-favorite cousin, and Edna never legally married but did outlive her partner (who all three agree was the prettiest woman to ever live). When they pull into Monroe, Harry gallantly helps Edna and Heather off the bus while Louis escorts Jackie. 

“You’re a lovely couple,” Jackie tells him before they all hobble off together. 

“Wow,” he murmurs once they’re gone. “I feel tired.” 

Harry laughs but those women—they’re younger than Louis. It’s bizarre. “Louis?” Harry says hesitantly, reaching out to touch his hand. 

He shakes off the oddness to smile. “Well, let’s explore, Harold,” he says brightly. It’s only midafternoon; plenty of time. 

.

Louis watches Harry watch the world. Since they met, Harry has grinned as he interacts with people, especially children. He laughs and dances and tries really odd-looking food. He offers some to Louis, but Louis gently rebuffs him. He can eat but it so rarely tastes like anything but dust. Only when he’s brimming with sire’s blood (or perhaps an elder of the clan’s) does anything have taste. Harry pouts briefly but quickly brightens back up. Louis’ not sure he can stay unhappy for long. 

“Having fun?” Louis asks as the sun sets. These past few days have been— _fun_ for him, too. He certainly hasn’t been bored.

Harry nods, even though he’s begun flagging slightly. “Tired, love?” Louis chuckles, steering him towards their chosen motel. While Harry was chatting with a young family, Louis had bought their bus tickets for the day after next, giving them plenty more time to explore. 

While Harry showers, Louis tracks down dinner and then settles on the bed in their room to flip through the channels, looking for anything worth watching. There isn’t much, so he finally leaves it on a music channel. 

Harry exits the bathroom in only pants again, drying his curls with a towel. He ducks his head slightly, delightfully bashful, a lovely blush blooming on his cheeks, and Louis smirks, wanting to hear him ask. 

“Can we try again, Louis?” he finally murmurs. 

“Of course,” Louis says. If any of the clan saw him with this little demon—he hasn’t ever been this patient, this gentle, this kind with anyone but his family, and it’s just so confusing when he thinks about it, so he shoves it all aside in favor of smiling at Harry and sitting up to remove his shirt. “Want me fully starkers?” he asks, smiling now instead of smirking. 

Harry’s blush brightens as he nods, but instead of teasing more, Louis just slips off his jeans and pants, dropping them beside the bed. 

“You don’t like sex,” Louis says as Harry steps back into the bathroom to hang up the towel. “What do you like?” 

“Touching,” Harry says, settling carefully onto the bed. “Kissing, sometimes. I had a couple friends, back home, and we messed around some.” He shuffles over and places a gentle hand on Louis’ side, strokes his skin. “I liked being held,” Harry adds. “But everyone always wanted to get to the, the fucking part, and it was just…” He shrugs, wrinkling his nose. 

Louis stretches out and smiles up at him. “C’mon, then,” he says. 

Harry nods, takes a deep breath, and then climbs fully onto the bed. Louis stays still as Harry shuffles around, finally settling with his back pressed against Louis’ front. Louis slowly slips his arm around Harry’s middle and Harry just clutches at him. 

Once again, Harry nods off first, which makes sense as he’s probably malnourished. It also explains why he keeps taking so much from Louis: his body trying to catch up. 

Louis buries his nose in Harry’s curls, mind wandering back to his siblings and he how he used to rock Fizzy to sleep so Mum could deal with Lottie’s tantrums. And then he’d hold one of the twins so Mum could deal with the other. He’d wanted children of his own so very much—

When he feels Harry’s skin warming everywhere they touch, Louis gratefully focuses on that. It’s odd but soothing, and he quickly falls asleep. 

.

In the morning, Louis wakes more drained than he’s felt in a long time. “Oh, shit,” Harry mutters while Louis blinks up at him dumbly. “Shit, you need to feed on me,” Harry tells him, putting his wrist to Louis’ mouth. “C’mon!” 

Louis is ravenous. But if he starts feeding, he knows he won’t stop until the person is drained; he won’t be able to. “No,” he mumbles, turning his head away. 

“Shit,” Harry says again. “Okay, so I’ll go find you someone? Or—” Louis’ eyes fall closed while Harry is still muttering, and he’s asleep again. 

.

He wakes again to cold blood sliding down his throat and gags, eyes flying open as he shoves Harry away. Even though it’s disgusting, that tiny taste is enough to have him grabbing the bottle from Harry and draining it. It doesn’t taste right—like multiple people, all their blood shoved together—but that doesn’t matter, and then he’s licking his lips and the rim of the bottle, eyeing Harry hungrily. 

“More?” he demands. 

Harry holds out another bottle. 

.

They don’t explore Monroe; instead, Louis rests and then goes to feed around midmorning, to wipe the taste of Harry’s stolen blood from his mouth. Once he feels normal again, he sits Harry down on the uncomfortable sofa while he himself sits cross-legged on the bed, and they have the discussion they should’ve had that first night: how Harry feeds, and what that means for the people he feeds from. 

Harry smells like shame, wringing his hands in his lap, head bowed. 

“Physically,” Louis asks, “how do you feel?” 

“Full,” Harry answers without lifting his head. “Energetic. Like I can do anything.” 

Louis taps his fingers on his thigh. “Have you felt like that before?” 

Harry shakes his head, mumbling, “No.” 

“How do your people feed usually?” Louis asks. “I mean, are children feeding off sex?” The thought disgusts him, which he figures is the human in him. 

“No.” Harry shakes his head again. “Until our maturity, we just feed off proximity energy, I think? We learned about it in school but I wasn’t paying attention. There was this really pretty boy in my class—” He cuts himself off. “We change, when we mature. Something in our systems changes, and we can’t feed off the same thing anymore.” 

Louis nods, because that makes as much sense as anything. “And you’ve been draining people ‘til they’re dry because you’re starving,” he muses, ignoring that Harry’s scent is ashamed again. Still. “If you fed every night, would it kill your food?” he asks. 

Harry shakes his head, still without looking up. “We’re supposed to be able to control it,” he mumbles. “But I refused—there were lessons, I mean.” 

Louis’ nails dig into his thigh, but he says nothing. “And you can’t control how much you pull from me,” he says, voice even. “If we got you a human, could you try it with them?” 

Harry’s head jerks up, eyes wide, his scent shot through with terror. If Louis _ever_ meets his family—“Please no,” he begs, “I’m sorry, I’ll leave if you want.”

Louis is off the bed and wrapping around Harry before he realizes he wants to move. Harry keeps talking into his chest while Louis rubs his back, murmurs the nonsense sounds he used to make for his sisters. 

He is very _very_ angry, but none of it comes through in his voice, his touch. He buries it deep where the monster sleeps, and slowly, Harry is soothed. He stops crying, stops whimpering, stops begging. They are noises he wouldn’t mind causing again, but not like this. 

“I have a theory,” Louis says, slowly pulling away. Harry wipes at his eyes but stays silent. Louis continues, “You’re starvin’, love. Your body is trying to survive, so it takes as much as it can, as fast as it can, and it will until you’re back to normal. You won’t be able to control it until then.” 

“But that’s dangerous for you,” Harry says. He rubs his nose and then brings his shirt up to wipe his whole face, breathing slowly and steadily. 

“I can take it,” Louis assures him. For one brief moment, he wonders if Harry could kill him, if all his attempts at trying to die had proved for naught only to be handed to an adorable demon who could kill him but wouldn’t want to—

But Harry blinks up at him, and Louis shoves the thought aside. “I don’t want to hurt you,” Harry says. “But I don’t know how not to.” 

Louis smiles, reaching out slowly enough for Harry to pull back. When Harry stays still, eyes locked on Louis’, he gently caresses Harry’s cheek, trails his fingers along Harry’s jaw. “You’re starving, Harold,” he murmurs. “You said so yourself. Waitin’ until you can’t anymore, and then gorging. It isn’t healthy and it isn’t safe.” 

Harry closes his eyes but he doesn’t pull away. 

“I’ll just ‘ave to eat more,” Louis says. “To match what you take.” 

He waits, his palm cradling Harry’s cheek, and he grins, sharp and wide, when Harry nods. 

.

 

…

He manages to go a month without feeding from Harry. Harry feeds off him almost every night, as they explore the cuddling vs fucking thing, and he's brilliant and bright, and they spend days wandering around LA, doing touristy shit during the day and dancing in clubs 'til midnight, laughing and kissing and Harry picking out who he thinks Louis should feed from, and it's more fun than he's had in - decades. Decades. 

But he doesn't feed from Harry. Despite the fact that Harry takes great delight in dancing with anyone who catches his fancy, dirtier than Louis ever imagined, always looking to make sure Louis' watching. He manages to go a month. 

Harry asks nearly every morning, wired from Louis' energy, "Do you need to feed, Lou?" and Louis always finds a human. Just to sip from, just enough to put him back in top shape. 

Just enough. 

But he's _aching_ to taste Harry. Has wanted to latch on and guzzle from the moment he first saw him, heard him, smelled him. Since that first night, when Harry actually slept in his arms. 

He can control how much he takes from humans. But Harry? He has no idea what an incubus tastes like. The only one he's met before, he'd accidentally torn apart without even getting a sip. And he will not allow himself to hurt Harry irreparably, whether Harry wants it or not. 

Or he believes, for an entire month. 

Until the night an elder from another clan is dancing with Harry when Louis returns from feeding off the pretty boy Harry had picked for him. Louis doesn't recognize her, and it's obvious Harry has no idea what she is, or he wouldn't be twined around her. She’s old, probably at least a thousand, and she catches Louis’ eye from where he’s frozen near the hall. 

He wants to tear out her throat out but he can’t. She tilts her head enough to kiss Harry’s neck without looking away from Louis. Harry giggles, still riding the high from all the experimentation he did with alcohol earlier, and slowly, she pulls away from him. She slips through the crowd, leaving Harry to pout before he finds a new partner, and then she stops right in front of Louis. 

“It’s only polite to present oneself when entering another’s territory,” she says in that bland, no-where accent the old ones acquire. 

“It’s LA,” he says, battling her presence through sheer force of will. His knees want to collapse, but he’s never respected the elders of his own clan, so he’s not about to bow to this stranger. “Figured it was a free for all.” 

She smiles, baring her fangs. “Take better care of your pet, young one,” she says. “Others won’t let him go without a challenge.” She reaches up to pat his cheek, and he has to let her. “He’s a pretty one,” she murmurs. “And unclaimed, tsk tsk.” 

His fingers curl into fists. She laughs and then turns to eel her way back through the crowd. 

Louis goes to Harry, angry and frightened and full of someone else’s blood, and he drags Harry from the club back to their room and shoves him onto the bed. He nearly latches onto his neck or his wrist or his thigh, but Harry’s still bubbly, still happy and bright and brilliant, still the only person in the whole world he wants to take care of, so he locks himself in the bathroom to ride the emotions out. 

“Lou?” he hears in the morning. He hasn’t slept but he knows Harry did, at least for a little while. “Lou, where are you?”

When he opens the bathroom door, he sees Harry naked and tangled in the sheets, curls in a disarray, pouting. “No cuddles,” he says accusatorially. 

Louis kneels beside the bed. “Harry,” he murmurs, wrapping the sound of Harry’s strong, sure heartbeat around himself. “May I feed from you?” 

Harry’s eyes widen. “Yeah, yes,” he says. 

Louis breathes in slowly, rising up slightly to kiss Harry’s cheek. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he says. “It’ll just be a sip.” He grasps Harry’s wrist and presses a kiss to his pulsepoint. “Only a sip,” he repeats. 

“Only a sip,” Harry echoes. 

He goes almost a month without feeding from Harry. That first morning, he takes three mouthfuls. In seventy years, he’s never tasted anything better. 

…

 

He hears Harry mutter an expletive before he catches the scent but he waits until Harry sighs heavily and calls, "Lou! I've a small mess for you to clean up."

"See that one?" Louis murmurs into Harry's curls, barely nodding towards the woman who just slunk into the bar. "She's an ancient vampire, older than the written word." 

Harry snorts slightly, fingers pulling at Louis' shirt. 

"She's lookin' for someone to turn," he continues. "Amarate, older than you can fathom, young Harold." 

"You're not that much older than me," Harry mutters. "And if she's that ancient, what's she doin' here?" 

Louis shrugs, jostling him a little, so Harry presses against him, shifting in place until he's comfortable again. "Well that one," he says, jutting his chin slightly towards the older man at the bar, the one watching the not-a-vampire-named-Amarate, "he's a wolf, and he's hiding from his birthpack." 

"Ooh, really," Louis says. "Well, go on then, tell me the rest." He brings his hand up to curl around Harry's, and it feels so safe, sitting in Louis' arms, their backs to the wall, knowing that no one around them was as dangerous or as powerful as Louis, so there was no threat at all, not here, not ever with Louis. 

"His name's Pete," Harry tells Louis in a murmur, letting his head loll onto Louis' shoulder, baring his neck. Louis presses his lips to the side of Harry's throat as Harry continues, spinning an epic story about Pete the wolf, who ends up falling under Amarate's charms, and it leads to an all-out war between shifters and vampires. 

They stay at the bar until closing, whispering stories to each other, and when they leave, Harry's fallen deeper in love.

…

"Ooh, that smells nice," Louis murmurs, smirking as Harry flinches slightly in shock. 

Harry gives a slight glare over his shoulder but doesn't stop stirring the dough. "'ve told you to not sneak up on me," he says, trying so very hard for a stern tone but he can't quite manage it. 

Louis' smirk melts into a grin and he goes up on his toes to nip gently at Harry's ear. "I'm so sorry, love," he apologizes with as sincere a tone he can manage. 

Harry giggles, trying to escape, but there's nowhere to go between Louis and the counter. Louis kisses the back of his neck once, twice, before pulling away. "I need to shower the stench away," he says. Harry nods, setting the bowl down, and then he turns to examine Louis head to toe. 

"'m'fine," Louis says. "There weren't any complications." He brings a finger up to wipe at the corner of his mouth and Harry's eyes follow the motion. Louis smiles again. “We’ll talk after I shower, yeah?” 

“See you in a bit, Lou,” Harry murmurs, turning back to his baking supplies. 

It’s difficult, leaving the kitchen and Harry’s warmth, but Louis (as ever) is tuned into his heartbeat, so he listens to its lullaby as he strips off the filthy clothes (that will be burned soon), showers in scalding water, and then pulls on one of Harry’s shirts and nothing else. 

There are biscuits fresh on the counter when he returns to the kitchen, another batch in the oven, and Harry’s putting all the ingredients away. “What kind, love?” Louis asks, going over to the cooling rack. 

“Blood orange,” Harry says, a bit of pride in the words. 

Louis smiles, inhaling sharply. “I thought they smelled familiar.” 

Harry laughs, and then giggles when Louis reaches for his arms, examines both his wrists with a determined eye. “Already healed,” he explains. “I didn’t take much.” 

Louis kisses both his pulsepoints. “Want to hear how they died, while you feed me biscuits?” he asks offhandedly. 

There are still bruises beneath Harry’s shirt, Louis knows. Almost healed, yes, but still there. He’ll be having nightmares for weeks to come, just as he did last night and the night before. 

It’s been a long time since Louis truly felt like a monster, but he’d gleefully unleashed it all on those bastards. 

“Yes,” Harry says after a slight hesitation. He inhales slowly, holds it, exhales, fingers digging into Louis’ side, and Louis’ sure he doesn’t even know he’d reached out. “Please,” he adds, hand dropping as he turns to grab a plate. 

They died slowly, in agony. Begging. Louis didn’t feed from them because he wanted no part of them to leave that dank little room. 

“These are as delicious as you,” Louis says, nibbling on one of the biscuits. 

Harry lights up and Louis has to kiss him again, the tip of his nose, the corners of his eyes. “You’re mine,” he whispers into Harry’s skin, kissing his way along Harry’s jaw and down to his throat. Harry tilts his head slightly, offering more of his throat, and Louis inhales slowly, savoring the scent. 

He doesn’t say _I love you_ , though Harry has, and though he does so much it’s terrifying, sometimes, but he knows that Harry can feel it. 

“Go get comfortable,” Harry orders after a moment. “The second batch has a few more minutes. I’ll join you then.” 

Louis nips gently at his throat, letting one fang dig slightly into the skin, before pulling away to take the plate and turning to the cooling rack. 

He won’t tell Harry everything because Harry doesn’t like violence, doesn’t like gore or the pain of others, even when deserved. He’s the sweetest demon ever born, Louis’ sure. He deserves so much better than Louis, than what’s left after seventy years of rage and madness. 

But Louis isn’t anywhere near good enough to give him up, and Harry doesn’t want him to. 

So he takes the plate of biscuits into the den and curls up on the sofa to eat them, and he wonders, just for a moment, if Harry truly understands what Louis will do to keep him safe, will do in his name, will do to anyone who even looks at him with want or derision. He listens to Harry’s heartbeat, swaying in time with it, and he knows what will happen if Harry ever decides he’s done with Louis. 

The oven beeps. “Just another minute, Lou!” Harry calls. 

He’s truly the sweetest demon ever born, and Louis will slaughter whoever needs to be slaughtered to keep it that way. 

 

…

Now that they finally have a hideaway, safe from Louis' extended 'family' and those bastards who keep trying to capture Harry (most of whom are dead now), Harry has insisted that every evening after dinner, they play some kind of game. He hasn't explained, but Louis figured out after the fifth time that it reminds Harry of the happier days when he was younger, before - well, before all the shit that makes Louis want to rip people apart happened. 

So, as is always the case, what Harry wants, Harry gets. 

It's only been three years since they met, since Harry accidentally gave Louis a purpose again, and there's still so much neither of them have shared, so many secrets, but none of that matters because they have centuries more. It had been an eternity of dread, before a curly-haired demon tried his glamor on Louis. It had been an endless hell. 

When he was human, Louis had fancied himself a poet. Had imagined himself finding a woman who didn't mind his love for men (perhaps even a woman who loved women), and they'd share a bed often enough to have children, and Louis would dote on them just like he doted on his sisters, and he'd find work as a writer of some kind - 

Except he died at 22, drained dry and turned by the man he didn't believe was a vampire. He watched his family grow old and die, and none of them gave him permission to turn them, so he didn't. He buried them. His mother and his sisters and his brother and his nieces and his nephews. They alone received any of the scant goodness left in him. 

Louis had believed himself to be a decent man, when he was alive. In death, he became a terror. He never forgave Nick (still hasn't), but because he died all those years ago... 

"Scrabble!" Harry announces, plopping onto the floor and setting the game up on the coffee table. 

It's only been three years. They've been the best since he was human, since he first held Dorie and Ernie. He can't imagine a life without Harry, now. 

Marriage is a human invention. Some of the fae have what's translated as a marriage, but it's more of a soulbond. Demons, as Louis understands, have different levels of matings, from meeting up once every few years to continue the population to spending all hours together because it's painful on a spiritual level to be apart. Vampires have mates, though the younger ones still refer to each other as husband or wife because it's what they're familiar with. 

Harry's mum mated with a fae, and they call each other husband and wife, which still weirds Louis out sometimes. He has yet to meet them because Harry realized at some point that Louis is still furious with them for what led Harry to Earth. So it’ll be a long while before Harry’s comfortable introducing them. 

He sinks down across from Harry and accepts the letters Harry gives him. It’s only been three years. That’s barely a blink for either of them. Harry’s grown a little, filling out some. He still looks frightfully young, as he will for the next century or so. He’ll age past Louis until he’s at the peak of attraction, and then he’ll stop until he actively wills his body to resume aging. But Louis will forever look like his 22-year old self, and that hasn’t bothered him this much since Lottie grew past him, sixty years ago. 

“What’s wrong?” Harry asks, so Louis shakes himself out of his head in order to focus on the game. 

He hoards a few pieces, cheats a little, and Harry lets him. He has to pull his dictionary app a couple times, either to prove or disprove a word, but it’s fun, as all game nights are. Nothing exists outside their den. 

When he lays down his final tiles, he can hear Harry’s heart begin to pound. 

As a boy, in a world that barely exists anymore, Louis had imagined his future. What he has now is nothing like that dream. 

“Marry me?” he asks, consciously dropping every mask, every glamor, every distraction. 

In return, Harry lays himself bare and says, “Oh, yes.” 

…

"You really should tell him," Aimee mutters from her spot beside Nick, while Louis and his demon are laughing on the dance floor. He knows that Louis hasn't sensed him yet only because Aimee is shielding them both—one of the perks of being over 500, while Nick was merely in his second century, and Louis still not even a century yet. 

The only childe Nick ever turned. "It's not important," Nick says, unable to tear his gaze away from Louis wrapped around Harry, enthralled just like everyone else. "I told him what being turned entailed," he adds defensively. 

Aimee scoffs. "Had he been anyone else, you idiot," she says, "acting like that, he'd have been put down." 

Louis still thinks the reason he survived is because Nick compelled him to drink, after the elders punished him for the swath of destruction left in his wake. “I’ll tell him one day,” he says. His eyes go to Harry, Louis’ pretty pet demon. He’s glowing, in a way unlike any demon Nick’s ever met. “What do the elders foresee?” he asks. 

She laughs softly. “It’s a little late to worry about that, childe,” she murmurs, reaching up to pet his hair. 

…

"Why's it taken this long to introduce us?" Nick pouts, watching the way Louis stays between him and the delectable-smelling demon. It's bizarre, actually - the boy smells like sunshine and biscuits and a gentle spring rain. Nothing like any of the sex demons Nick's met before. "You know, the elders'll want to meet him, yeah?" he asks Louis, who glares at him. 

Louis' never gotten along with the elders. In the early days, when he was still rampaging around, they'd actually ordered Nick to put him down, but Nick successfully earned himself a decade in which to teach his childe control. Louis' the most beautiful and dangerous of all the family, and the elders have yet to admit that, but the fact that Louis' still around... Nick knows they know it, too. 

"Hi," Harry says, waving and smiling brightly. He's so gorgeous in sunlight. Nick wants to taste him, but Louis will kill him for it. That's obvious in the tilt his head, the tension in his shoulders. For all that Louis' flayed him before, touching this demon-boy will be what finally is too much. 

Interesting. 

"Let's go dancing," Nick says. Harry, at least, is for it, leaning forward slightly to whisper, "Oh, please, Lou," lips brushing Louis' ear. 

Nick knows that this is the most dangerous Louis has been, in all the decades since he turned him. 

It's going to be a fun night.


	2. notes

Title:  
Disclaimer: the real people belong to themselves; everyone else belongs to me  
Warnings: violence/death, references to, torture, bloodplay, and non-con/dub-con; biological dub-con  
Pairings: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, past OCs/Harry, Louis/Nick Grimshaw  
Rating: PG13  
Wordcount:  
Point of view: third

Note: incorporates the following prompts, though was not originally inspired by any

RPF, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, Sweet Temptation

RPF, Louis Tomlinson/Harry Styles, Louis proposes while playing scrabble.

RPF, Louis Tomlinson/Harry Styles, Louis comes home after being away for a awhile to the smell of food baking.

any, any, you're the best thing that's ever been mine.

any, any, best kept secret

RPF, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, They like to people watch and make up fake names and back stories to the people they see.

RPF, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, Harry cuts his finger while fixing dinner.

 

Summary: “You’re a vampire,” Harry says, wrapping his fingers around Louis’ wrist. 

“I am,” Louis admits. “Still workin’ on what you are, love.” 

 

Louis: panromantic demisexual vampire (90 years total, 68 vampire, 22 human)

Harry: homoromantic asexual incubus (40 years human, [equivalent 17]

Niall: wolf shifter (77, werewolf)

Zayn: fae prince (400 [equivalent 25]

Liam: hunter (30)

Come up with Louis’ past/timeline   
Nick’s family 

More worldbuilding on vampires/supernatural creatures; vampires have heartbeat y/n?  
Change tense?  
How/why does Harry find Louis? 

Fae live forever, unless killed (procreate by sex, compatible with shifters/humans/demons) (stop aging a peak health)

Vampires live forever, unless killed (procreate by turning, not fertile) (don’t age after turning)

Shifters live about 1000 years, unless killed (procreate by sex, compatible with humans) (age slowly)

Demons live about 3000 years, unless killed (procreate by sex, compatible with shifters/humans/fae) (stop aging at peak health, and then can consciously age after) 

 

https://www.greyhound.com/en/ecommerce/schedule

Okay, so, originally I was gonna have Louis be born like canon and set the fic in the future, but I decided I didn't want to worry about having to make up technology, so instead I have him turned in the 1940s at 22. He basically goes crazy with rage in the first few years before finally realizing that yes, he's a 'monster' now and going back home to his family, leaving his sire and the sire's family behind. Of course, he tells his family and they're all heartbroken and stuff, and he hangs around to watch over them.

So, he spends 60-odd years trying to die, right? Because he doesn't want to outlive his family, and he is, as they die one by one, from all the various ways mortals die.

I have it so that the sun will only start to affect vampires after hours of constant exposure, but all the pollution has messed with that, so vampires aren't as sensitive as they were before the Industrial Revolution. And there's other stuff too, like shapeshifters (into various animals, not just wolves) and fae, and the various kinds of demons. And there are a few groups of humans who hunt 'monsters'. But I have it so that there are various worlds or realities, or whatever, where the fae and demons live, and they like to pop over to the human world for adventure and food. So humans can hunt them when they're on earth, but can't follow them back. But vampires and shifters are stuck on earth, and not all hunters believe in fae and demons. If that makes sense.

So, louis is about 90, because he counts the human years (not all vampires do), and he still thinks like a human. He still has a conscience, because vampires don't lose their human morals or whatever when they're turned. He just also likes to play with his food, now, and sometimes (when he's angry, or sad) he likes to make a mess and hurt people. But not always. Basically, he protects what's his and everything/one else is just there, right? Like, he never once hurt his family, though he really only considers his mum and his siblings and his siblings kids as family. He won't hurt the kids' kids, and if sees that one of them's in trouble, he'll help them, but he's not gonna be guarding them like he did his siblings and nieces/nephews.

And there's all sorts of hierarchies with the vampires that Louis doesn't care about. His sire is trying to wrangle a position of power but Louis' off doing his own thing, basically still wanting to die because who wants to live forever, when everyone you love has died? But Dory, on her deathbed, fussed at him for wanting to die, so he's without a purpose except keep living because his baby sister wants him to.

So, yeah: vampires are still superstrong, superfast, superhearing. Not so much eyesight, I think. And the sun is more of an annoyance than anything. And still need blood, but not soulless monsters, like the Buffy kind. And most of them don't want to just indiscriminately feed, because they realize that if humans find out about them, they will be wiped out. (Which is why Louis is surprised he survived his first few years as a vampire.)

And Nick is his sire - he didn't turn Louis against his will, but Louis didn't believe all the vampire stuff. Their relationship is... not good. Like, every decade or so, Nick tracks him down and tries to reconcile but Louis kinda actively hates him, so it usually ends in Louis torturing Nick till he feels better, and Nick allows it because he kinda likes it? Which is different from most sire-childe bonds.

But now I'm trying to figure out how my vampires should actually be killed. Sunlight doesn't do it. How would humans get close enough to stake them? Like, I have Louis think that Nick could kill him, but it'd be really difficult. So should it be that vampires can only be killed by older vampires? Or should there be some ritual thing that humans can do? Or should it be something Louis doesn't even know, because his sire didn't teach him because Louis kinda lost it?

And then there's Harry, the sweetest demon you'll ever meet. So Louis looks like his 22 year old self. Harry has reached maturity, how the demons measure, but he looks like his 17 year old self, and he's really young in how humans count. And he has had sex, as his family didn't want him to die, but he hates it. And he keeps nearly starving, and then feeding just so he won't die, and he finally travels to the human world. I think it's sex in general that feeds the incubus/succubus, not just sex with humans? But when they want variety, they travel to earth/the fae realm. (Robin's part fae.) So Harry pops on over to earth, looking for something Robin told him he needed to find, and there he runs into Louis. Which is where the story starts, actually.

so far, it's about 4500 words of Louis stream-of-consciousness, and fonding all over Harry. There's no plot beyond Harry wanting a tour of earth, and Louis doesn't have anything better to do.

except, they just discovered that Harry can feed by cuddling, which is basically why I started the story in the first place. I had a vampire AU going and then stalled because I wanted Harry to be something else. My sister suggested incubus, but I can't/don't write sex scenes, so that'd be awkward, right? So now he's an asexual incubus who feeds via cuddling (skin-to-skin contact), which is something I've never seen before.

Poisoning blood could work, and if it's something Louis doesn't know about, then I can worry about that if it comes up. And Louis has prior experience with sex demons (which I forgot to mention, sorry). Vampires can definitely feed off them, which Harry offers, after he accidentally feeds on Louis. Which is how they discover cuddling works.

 

1925: Louis born   
1931: Lottie born  
1933: Fizzy born  
1937: Daisy and Phoebe born  
1947: Louis turned; Ernie and Dorie born   
1949: Louis meets incubus/succubus   
1950: Louis regains control and returns home  
1963: Nick tracks him down to reconcile  
1970: Jay dies  
1975: Harry born   
1977: Nick tracks him down to reconcile   
1990: Nick tracks him down to reconcile   
2002: Nick tracks him down to reconcile   
2005: Harry reaches maturity   
2013: Dorie dies   
2015: Louis meets Harry 

2018: Louis proposes


End file.
